


Afterthoughts

by AgenteQ



Category: The X-Files
Genre: My First AO3 Post, My First Fanfic, Post-Episode: s11e10 My Struggle IV, my first
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-14 13:49:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14137299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgenteQ/pseuds/AgenteQ
Summary: Mulder reflects after the events on My Struggle IV





	1. Chapter 1

This is not happening… It’s surreal.

I just shot the man that turn my life into a rollercoaster of grief and struggle. He is gone, for good this time. I kill my father right after my own son pretended to be me so my father shot him and kill him thinking it was me. My son and my father are dead.

He wanted to save me. How noble of him to defend a man he only saw once. A man he couldn’t hug because he had no feelings for. He died for me. I can’t believe this is how it ends.  
I’m exhausted yet I can’t sleep. I have a pile of emotions waiting to explode. My son, the one who died to save me, wasn’t mine. He was another manipulation, an experiment perpetrated by the psychotic mind of the man who believes can play God and take over humanity. The bastard who used the love of my life to fulfill his sick fantasy of creating the first successful human – alien hybrid with the sole propose of being omnipotent.

How much pain she can bare? In 25 years she has shared the tears of a lifetime. Her heart broken and taped back in place a thousand times. Resilience doesn’t even begin to describe her. She is love, passion, strength, courage, tears and rain. My Scully… now that I know what that bastard did to her, I fell the power and the release of taking his miserable life. That leach crawled back to the living world after I saw him explode in the desert. He took as his prisoner to Monica, mess with her human weakness and held her captive by his side giving her the hope of salvation. Little he knew her kind soul wouldn’t allow his darkness to envelope her, and no matter how difficult or risky it was, she helped us. Even if the cost was her own life.

This story has so many deaths in it’s path. Starting by my parents marriage, my sister’s, my father Bill, Melissa, my Mother, now my son and Mónica.

But all this tragedy is actually coming to an end? I can’t stop looking at her. Even after all this hurricane of sorrow, she is fast asleep. Peacefully. Hormones help I guess. She is pregnant. We are pregnant.  
It’s too much to process. I wish I had find out in different circumstances, happier ones. It doesn’t matter how William was conceived or who’s DNA was used in his creation, he is my son. I have loved him every day since she asked for my help with the IVF and I know that is not when it happen, but to know that she was willing to share something so sacred to her as the possibility of becoming a mother with me, made me the happiest man alive.

Coming back from the dead and seeing her carrying a beautiful round abdomen and that sweet glow only a mother to be can have, made my heart ache. How that child had come to be? Was there someone new in her life? Had she moved on? How long was I out? But when I solved those mysteries, and realize it was the consequence of those wonderful weeks we enjoy as more than partners, more than friends, even more than lovers, I felt love as I have never experience in my sorry existence.

I wished I was there from the beginning. From the moment she first suspected, when the morning sickness and dizziness began. To take the pregnancy test and feel the rush of adrenaline of seeing the 2 lines screaming positive. To kiss her and take her in my arms spinning around while we giggle and celebrate our little miracle.  
Funny how I now have to say goodbye again to this child without knowing him. I’ll never know what was his first word, his favourite cartoons, did he have a teddy bear or a blanket? Was he afraid of the dark or was brave enough to hunt monsters in the closet in the middle of the night? Who was his first crush, his first kiss? Once again as everything seems to be in my life, I have a thousand questions but this time, I won’t find the answers.

She sleeps. Her body rests and prepares everything for this little wonder to grow healthy in a safe environment. The only feeling I’ve been able to process so far is fear. It’s a big risk for her and the baby. Our baby. Our second child. This time will be different. We are together and live together. I can hold her hair when she is pouring her guts out (if she allows me to do it of course), cook for her, give her a foot rub, pampered her, do so many things I couldn’t do the time before but the most important is being here all the step of the way for the rest of our lifes.  
We’ll mourn our son’s lost forever and celebrate the arrival of new life with the joy of a second chance. This time I’ll do things right because I’m here and I’m not going anywhere without them. I’m theirs and they are mine. I want to love, laugh and live a simple life with my family, my very own.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully's feelings after the events on My Struggle IV.  
> I haven't got much time to write but I'm planning this to have at least 5 parts.

He is asleep. Dark circles under his eyes. Red rim around his eyelids. God knows for how long he was crying. I can barely keep my eyes open. The morning sickness isn’t that bad yet. With William it was all day everyday for 5 months. I not only lost 20 pounds but I also lost Mulder during that time.

Now, I have my Mulder, my second pregnancy but I lost my first-born son. Paradoxes.

I must get out of bed. It’s so hard to believe that I’m pregnant. With 53 years old, it’s such a big risk. Why now? Why couldn’t be 10 years earlier when I was younger and the energy was different? “It’s not that I don’t want you my child, I love you just as much as your brother but I’m so scared for you, for me and for your father.” I don’t think we have the strength to survive another lost.

I’m standing in front of the mirror thinking about the changes to come and those that I can already see: my breasts are slightly swollen, I’m paler than usual, my belly seems to have irritable bowel … This is really happening.

He comes from the darkness of the bedroom and holds me from behind. His chin on my shoulder and both hands on my abdomen. “How many weeks do you think we have?” And that “we” breaks me. 

I turn around and hang from his neck crying tears I didn’t even know I still had. It’s us, It’s we and It’s all it takes for me to realice there is nothing to be afraid of this time because WE are in this together and as everything for the past 25 years, we will be there by each other’s side.

We’ve been through Hell and Highwater, and not even death could pull us apart. This new end comes with an unexpected new begging that has his sad eyes full of hope.

“Talk to me Scully” – He says pressing his lips to my forehead, just as so many times before.

“I don’t know what to say Mulder, I… I feel, God I don’t know how I feel.” – It’s all I can articulate between sobs. How can you be so heartbroken and hopeful at the same time?

“I know exactly how that is honey. Come with me, let’s go back to bed. There is a lot to process right now and we are exhausted. We’ll talk in the morning (kiss) and during lunch (kiss) in the afternoon sitting in the porch (kiss) and everyday for the rest of our lives because the only thing I’m certain of right now, is that I don’t want to waste time by being afraid. Let’s get some sleep and face the world tomorrow, Ok?”

“Sounds like a plan to me” – I can utter with a hopeful loving smile.


End file.
